Nebula
by Hikari Reizumi
Summary: First of the Nebula Series. A Great and Terrible Beauty in Kartik's point of view. Please Read and Review!
1. Prologue

Nebula

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy. POV – point of view

**Prologue**

October 19, 1878

Bombay, India

_Regular POV_

Thunder rumbled and the flickers of lightning were the only source of light they had. Two figures, both hooded and cloaked, ran with frantic desperation towards the black carriage, away from the gated gothic mansion. A cluster of other hooded fellows ran after them, their feet splashing through the shallow puddle as they did so.

The crowd was gaining speed, spears held in their hands. Spears and daggers. "Hold!" They commanded, but the two figures did not stop their retreat. "In the name of the great Rakshana, we command you to cease your flight!" Again, the two showed no signs of listening or slowing down. They ran. They ran until they reached the carriage. One of the hooded figures jerked the door of the carriage open. It simply budged. The other turned his head, just in time for the lightning to flash and illuminate him. His eyes were wide. Panic and fear were written across his pale face. Then it was dark again. Once more, they tried the door. It rattled, yet it did not open.

Muttering, the man slammed his elbow on the window, breaking it. Reaching his hand inside, he tore the door open and pushed his companion inside.

He looked back, dropping his hand to his side. Blood dripped down his arm, the stain spreading out to soak his cloak. Already saturated with rainwater, the cloak simply stuck to his arm like a second skin. The pursuers were closing in on them. He felt inside his robe, searching for a knife, a dagger, a blade – anything. He looked around and saw the horsewhip on the chair.

He dived for the weapon, the handle slipping into his hands with practised ease. Clutching it tightly, he faced the others, now in front of him. They surrounded them, just as the lightning exploded in the night sky. A child's wail started, but it was drowned out by the resonating thunder. Without looking in the carriage, he whispered, "Kartik. His name is Kartik."

With that, the man whipped the horse. The woman in the carriage jolted, but did not release the secure hold on the baby in her arms. She covered up the baby with the cloak she was wearing, and put her foot on the step right outside the door.

"Ranjeet!! No - come back!! Why did you do that?! Why? – Run! Ranjeet! Run - Come back - Please, I'm begging you! Please…" The horse trotted away, her husband's figure became smaller and smaller until she could never see him. Her plead softened, when she realized the futility of it. Her shrilling screams turned to heartbreaking sobs, accompanying the wailing sounds of the baby.

She managed to soothe the baby, calming herself in the process. Looking at the child in her arms, she gave a watery smile. She wiped the teardrops that collected on her lashes. "Kartik, huh?"

The baby cooed.

-o-

Ranjeet dropped to his knees, the whip curled around his hand. He made a fist, staring at the bloodied ground in front of him. Just in the corner of his eyes, he saw two feet covered in black boots. The right foot inched closer to his face, hooking the toe part underneath his chin. Suddenly, he felt someone clutching at his hair, and lifted his head.

His vision blurred, yet he still managed to keep his eyes open. He opened his mouth, his voice emitting a silent scream. "Fool." He managed to choke out. The others just chuckled. Two more men came forward and pushed him to his feet. One took the horsewhip from his hand. He jerked the weapon across Ranjeet's back. The whipping echoed, blending with the patters of the rain. Ranjeet threw back his head in pain and shrieked, yet no voice was coming out. Blood streamed down his scored back, and flowed to his legs, reaching the wet, filthy ground.

"Let us go. He is waiting."

"Unhand me, you traitors."

"Us? Traitors? Then how would you define your little escapade there, Ranjeet?" Once more, Ranjeet was yanked up to his feet. They held his arms and dragged him back to the castle; the storm continued to rage on. "Come now. Be obedient. Master awaits us."

The massive door creaked open. Inside was dark, with high ceiling supported by tall pillars. Their footsteps echoed down the hall, the path was dimly lighted by the melting candles attached to the walls. They walked on forward and every now and then, Ranjeet would fall to his knees. But the others could care less. They continued pushing him, dragging him to his feet until they reached their destination.

Ranjeet grunted as he was pressed down on his knees. One of the cloaked figures grabbed him roughly by the neck. His fingers closed in on the pin holding up the cape. He wrenched it free and let the black cape fall on his companion's feet.

The cloaked figures left Ranjeet kneeling and parted to the sides. In front of him, sitting on a large wooden chair was another hooded Rakshana. Strangely, his eyes glowed red – as red as the ruby settled on his ring finger. The eyes narrowed and he slowly rose to his feet.

"Betrayal. You have failed me, Ranjeet. I will not tolerate it."

He moved closer to Ranjeet. A piercing cry was heard.

-o-

The horse slowed down to a trot. The sun was coming up as the sky finally quieted down and the carriage approached a small village. Avani held the sleeping child in her arms. Her face, tear-dried, showed fatigue and sleepiness, but she fought to be awake. She shut her eyes tight, then opened them, trying to clear her muddled vision. She had to get to safety first. She would not endanger the life of her child. She and her husband already lost one. She would not let this one go.

The Rakshana, a regal brotherhood, rose in the East. They were the guardians of the realms and its borders. They were the mightiest warriors across time, sworn to protect the Order, that defeated even the most shadowy creature. King Arthur, Charlemagne and Knights of Templar were members of Rakshana and their ferocity left no one alive. However, because of the foolish love that she and her husband harboured, they visited the sanctuary of the Rakshana in vain hope to rescue their sons.

She felt the carriage slow down and looked outside the window. She sighed heavily, her heart still pumping with adrenaline. Small huts were scattered around the area, few people were outside. It was just dawn and most people, especially the children, were still asleep. Several onlookers glanced their way, curiosity taking over. One brave fellow waited for their black vehicle to stop and walked towards them.

"Hello." He greeted, his smile glittered with warmth.

The man was somewhat burly, and he showed a kind and amiable face. He was approachable enough, but Avani still held her defenses up, the baby tucked, snoring lightly in her arms.

She took a tentative step forward. Then her whole view shifted.

The scene before her crackled like lightning. It shifted from one vision to another. The horse whinnied and trampled as dark clouds surrounded her; fogged her vision. Slowly, an outline of a man came into view. The silhouette sinuously stalked her and she took a frightened step back, cuddling Kartik closer to her body.

Moments later, she could see the sword-and-skull emblem holding up his cape.

Rakshana.

She jerked, turned around and started to flee. Panic was written on her face. But he was too fast and blocked her path. She fretted, jumping back and forth on her heels – not knowing where to go. She could not escape. Not from a Rakshana. She knew how powerful they were.

He growled, "The heir will inherit the throne when the devil's number arises."

-o-

_Kartik's POV_

**17 years later**

The market place in Bombay is the busiest place during day time. The throng of people covers every inch of the frenzied place. Vendors shout their best bargains and every now and then, the pink tongues of cobras slither between its poisonous fangs. The crowd buzz around, some in hurry – bumping against one another – and others with leisure. Sometimes they are unruly; their behaviours low-class. Yet, this is what makes human nature fascinating. They live and work, sometimes gaining nothing, but they all seem happy.

I became part of Rakshana when I turned six. I live with them now and with my brother, Amar. They are family. They are of the higher ranks who have given me my life and I should be glad. _Should_ be glad. But there is this unexplainable hole in my chest that prevents me from being truly happy. It is like I am missing a part of me. A familiar part. A precious part. A significant part that would make the jigsaw complete. It feels like I have encountered it but lost it in a fog, never again to be seen. It is as if it is saying that I can never be happy until I find that missing piece.

Amar and I are following two English ladies. Three ladies, but one is Indian. She is none of our concern. We are after the English ones because they hold the power. One of them _was_ part of the Order, the other can change our destiny – my destiny. I do not know much since I am only a novice, but I do know this: we are Rakshana and we have no intention of giving the realms back to the Order.

A few people throw curious glances our way. Probably because of our unusual attire. My brother and I are wearing traditional Indian clothes save for the dark cloak fastened by the emblem of the Rakshana. We stealthily follow the ladies, never exposing our cover. They are just strolling around the market, looking but never purchasing any items.

One of the ladies stops by a vendor stand. She is only a girl, about two years younger than me. She picks up a statuette of Kali – the goddess of death and destruction. She seems fond of it, and of course, she will be, seeing as she is of the Order. Not that she has any idea, of course. She acknowledges the other woman's call and hurries away after setting down the figurine. She is but a mere child. I do not believe that she has the power to destroy the realms. And not only the realms, but this reality as well.

We try to blend in more so we can follow them further. I look around the marketplace – trying to find something to pique my interest. Oddly enough, there is.

Three stands away from where we are, I notice a dark figure roaming about. It glides on the ground, hiding in every shadow. It creeps towards the two English ladies. I glance at Amar and I find that he sees the tracker as well.

"Circe." He mutters.

We attempt to cross the little distance between the ladies and us, but it is hard to move in a marketplace as busy as this. We are walking faster now and I am trying to discover how I can warn them without causing alarm.

Amar suddenly brakes into a run, and I follow suit. I narrowly miss the people around us and they just give us a mere glance. It is not uncommon to run in a busy marketplace where buyers want to purchase items with the best bargains. Perhaps they are thinking that we are of the kind. Amar then slows down to a walk, not closing the distance. I am walking behind him, careful not to intervene with his plan. He walks straight ahead and bumps his shoulder with the English adult, which I presume to be the girl's mother. Then he turns his head with an apologetic look.

"A thousand pardons, honourable lady." He smiles warmly and gives a deep bow to excuse his rudeness. As he does so, I am given a chance to look at the two ladies and their Indian companion.

The girl around my age locks eyes with me. She has red hair with golden flakes and green eyes. They are as green as an emerald and her long lashes frame her doe-like eyes. For a moment, we hold each other's gaze. I am not supposed to find English ladies attractive - much less, one who is part of the Order. English people treat Indians as slaves. They see our kind lower than dirt. I break our contact, fearful that she will see the red tinge rising to my cheeks. I crane my neck, pretending to look over the hordes.

"You should be more careful. You better not be a thief or you will be punished." I hear their Indian companion say. She sounds vexed. I glance quickly and see her threatening Amar with her arm.

"No, no, memsahib, only I am terribly clumsy." He drops his friendly facade and his face turns cold. The maid - the Indian lady who is with them - eyes Amar with distrust before turning away. He is careful to whisper to the mother with perfect English, "Circe is here."

We leave them and our walk hastens. We stray as far as possible away from them and closer to the tracker. Yet, we still keep an eye out for them.

"Kartik," my brother calls. "Carefully listen to what I have to say." I look at him directly and I am getting a bizarre frightened feeling from the tone of his voice. "Look after the girl, Kartik." This surprises me. Amar might have seen the shock on my face and he elaborates. "They are after the girl. Precisely the girl. You have to keep Circe away from her, else disaster takes root." He nods towards them and once more, I look at them.

When I turn back to my brother, I found that he has disappeared.

I twist sharply, looking for Amar. I jump up and down, from side to side. I am utterly confused. My heart beat increases steadily and my vision starts to blur at the corners. Where has Amar disappeared to? He did not usually leave me to my devices. Where has he gone? Did the tracker get to him? My eyes flicker, scanning the crowd. Nothing seems out of place.

I run. I run faster than I have ever run before. My feet are guiding me; I do not know where they are taking me. They pump on the ground as I dart off down a foul-smelling narrow street. I turn around corners, following the twists and turns of the alleys as my eyes blindly search for my missing brother.

My sprint slowly comes to a stop as I try to catch my breath. I heave. My mind is still going haywire. When my breath slowly evens out, I look at where I am. I end up deep in the village, far away from the crowd. I try tracing my way back, trying my best to think straight. I try to remember all the twists and turns I have taken. I try composing myself. Try. Yet, I _need_ to compose myself. After all, I am a Rakshana.

But...is this what it all comes down to? Just because I belong in the elite brotherhood that protects the realms? Would I give up my brother just for the sake of my title? No. I need not to think of this now. There are more important matters. A lot more important matters.

The air seems suddenly still. It is unusually quiet. Then, the clouds rumble and they come together. A storm is not far of. I walk on further and the inhabitants in the village close their windows. I hear whispers of fright from this neighbourhood. The whispers are soft; I cannot decipher them. Not a moment later, the first drop of rain comes down. Then the next, until they fall like needles from the angry sky. Drop by sharp, prickling drop, they seep to my cloak.

I look ahead before me, trying to figure out where exactly I am. When I do so, I see the girl from the marketplace. The one my brother instructed me to protect. No. Not protect, but to look after. The girl is crouching down on the ground, her face smudged with dirt and tears. I stride over to her and she sees me. Her eyes widen with fear and she jumps back to her feet. She darts away from me so I run after her.

She is fast, considering all the layers of drenched cloths dragging her down. Yet, once again, she falls to her knees, breathing harshly as she fights to keep her eyes open. Tiny convulsions take over her body and I realize what is happening.

I run to her, as she struggles to her feet to flee once more. She fails and I catch her as she falls to the ground. Not a moment later, she is lifeless in my arms. I look at her dazed look and my breath, taking me unaware, chokes me. It throws me off my feet. The precious hold I have to keep my momentum suddenly disappears. Fright takes over me - alarm. The Rakshana has mentioned this and today is that fateful day.

"It's happening." I say.

What does she see? Is it Amar? Does she see where he is? What does she see? Is it her mother? Did the tracker get Amar? Why is this taking so long? When will this be over? I am utterly anxious, but I have to stay calm. Can I do it? Amar has to kill himself. Can he do it? He must. There is no other choice.

A rapid cold feeling sweeps over me. I want to shiver, to gasp helplessly. I want to wrap my arms around myself. It is cold. So terribly cold. The vision is not over yet. There are some more. I want to know what she is seeing, yet at the same time, I do not. Irony – that is what I've been living with for the past eleven years. My life is filled with enormous ironies.

I hold her close to myself, burying my face on her red hair. I found myself a refuge with her. I feel safe. I feel secure – similar to the time when my brother soothed me. The arms Amar held around me swore an eternal promise, one that is yet to be broken. Again, today is that fateful day. The day when reality distorts itself and merges together to form a new place altogether.

Amar offered me a haven when I had none, after all the times when I was hurt, when Rakshana punished me endlessly. When I was caught time and time again, after all the crimes I've committed to live in this harsh reality. When the Rakshana forced my soul to bend, when they broke me and forcefully entered my mind. When they bent me to my utmost loyalty and obedience. To their will.

It hurt. The pain kept on tormenting me. Agonizing insanity seeped into my mind, keeping me awake every night. It was cold. It was icy cold and it pricked every single corner of my mind – my heart. My soul.

This was incomparable to the pain they've inflicted on my body. They've whipped my back cross after cross after cross. They did not stop even after gushes of blood had spilled. As the gore pooled on the ground, they've laid me on a table and stretched my limbs into impossible lengths.

The torture was relentless.

I screamed. I cried. Yet, they did not cease. They continued from morning to night, from one day to the next. They did not yield to my pleas, and from this, I knew. I realized that Amar might have gone through this. They were doing this because I am a Rakshana. They were doing this for my cause. They were doing this because it is their fate to do so. It is my fate to be tortured. I had to take this pain.

I live in a cruel world.

I was trained to be part of Rakshana – to show no mercy, to punish and to destroy. To play God. The Rakshana were merciless. They still are. After each drop of my blood spilled, after each cry, after each torturous ritual, my brother was there. His love replaced all the pain, filled every bruise with love and hope.

Sometimes I have wondered if I was chosen to be a Rakshana because of my brother. What do I have that made me a Rakshana? If I was any different, would I still be part of this brotherhood...this animosity? Have I not any influence on what I want to be? Can I not choose my own path and change my destiny?

Or will I forever remain part of the brotherhood?

I live in cruel world.

I have not been given a choice. I had none - Rakshana or death? Whatever choice do I have? Perhaps I was born to live this life. Perhaps this is my sole purpose in life. Perhaps this is my fate. And that other self I lost in the fog would never be found again. I lost it. I lost my soul. I lost my will to live. The only thing that makes me live is my purpose. And the faith that my brother has in me. As long as I have these, I can live every single day. I can endure any pain inflicted on me. I can watch the sun rise and the moon set every dawn. I can watch the world around me, watch the life and the laughter I can never have.

The girl starts thrashing. I am broken away from my reverie and back to reality. We are in the middle of an alley and I avoid the flailing limbs of the girl in my arms. The girl throws her head back, her brows knotted together. She whimpers. She wants to get away from her vision. Rather, what she sees in her vision.

"Don't...please." I hold her arms together, but her legs continued thrashing. "Get away...don't…please don't…Stop!...Please – don't kill…Not her." Her movements are getting sharper. She jerks from side to side and I have to pin her down.

"Mother…get away – No!" She sits right up, almost colliding with me. Her eyes are wide, dilated and her red hair, disarrayed. I hold her flailing arms to her side but she continues to squirm.

"What did you see? Tell me!" A strong cold tide has taken over my body. Her sudden fear and confusion grip me. My mind fights for control, reason. I need to be in control. I need to be logical. My emotions are overwhelming me, but I need to think. Fast. I need to know what happened.

She keeps on hitting me. She tries to push me away but I am far stronger than her. She twists in my grip in attempt to struggle away. Her efforts weaken but she sits rigidly in my arms.

"Where are they? What did you see?" I shake her. The girl, still dazed, seems to get her bearing; I have yet found mine. What is she thinking? More importantly, what did her vision present to her?

"Tell me! What did you see? Did you see my brother?" She looks at me surprised. She must have forgotten where we are. She looks directly at me before struggling once more. I tighten my hold on her.

"Let me go!" she kicks blindly and by some impossible luck, gets me in the tenderest of places.

I double over in pain, unable to do anything but watch as the girl makes her escape. She rounds the corner, and I am still crumpled on the ground, helpless.

What happened to Amar?

Is he dead?


	2. Chapter 1 Sub

A/N:

Hello to all!

I've decided to continue this series after a VERY long time of having a writer's block. Hopefully I can update weekly.

I'd really appreciate if ideas (or websites for research) are given since I'm not familiar with Indian and English customs in 1890s, as well as Buddhist custom. Since Kartik doesn't really appear in the first book as much, I'd try to follow the plot of the series (with Gemma) while keeping Kartik's point of view – somewhere either in England or India.

Thank you all.

- Hikari


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